


Windchaser

by DrunkenOracle



Series: Scars [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-13
Updated: 2015-03-13
Packaged: 2018-03-17 15:56:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3535367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrunkenOracle/pseuds/DrunkenOracle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eledhwen and Bull swap stories about their scars over drinks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Windchaser

Eledhwen’s laughter rang through the crowded tavern like bells above Bull’s bass drum chortles. The pair were several drinks into the night already, and they were doubled over in their seats, trying to catch their breath without spilling their dragon piss.

"Okay, okay…" Bull wiped a tear out of his eye as he straightened back up. "You got one of mine, Boss. Your turn."

"Very well," the elf laughed, presenting her right shoulder and arm. "Pick a scar, any scar."

The Qunari grunted thoughtfully as he examined the myriad of pale markings that contrasted so starkly with the Inquisitor’s dark skin. Finally, he pressed his thumb to a thick, jagged scar, just above her elbow. “This one.”

She craned her neck to get a look at it and then thought for a moment, taking a drink. “Okay, so… it was… what, 9:24… 9:25 Dragon? Somewhen thereabouts, and my clan was camped in the Vimmarks…”

* * *

A young Eledhwen, perhaps 15, sat high in a tree, balanced quite expertly on the narrow branch. Her mass of long, white hair was a tangled mess, full of twigs and leave and blossoms, and she had grown weary of picking the intruders out. With a final grunt of exasperation, she drew one of her daggers and sheared off her long locks. They’d been nothing but an annoyance since she’d started hunting anyway, and she was glad to be rid of them.

The pale hair tumbled through the leaves and branches and ultimately caught the attention of Alalia, a young mage in the clan. After getting a good look at the strands, she cupped her hands around her mouth and called up into the trees. “Come down from there, ‘Dhwen! You’re late!”

Timet, bow in hand, drew up beside Alalia. “What, you found her?” He tied his red hair back and scowled up into the trees, looking for any motion. Finally, he caught sight of his friend’s descent.

"I’m not training today, guys," Eledhwen grunted, dropping to the ground and landing light on her feet. "I’m going after that white hart." She brushed her hair back out of her face and started walking.

Alalia and Timet exchanged looks and kept pace with the younger elf.

” _Lethallan_ , you didn’t see a white hart.” The mage attempted to reason with her. “It’s a myth! But Hahren Dinnae is not, nor is his anger.”

"It was a trick of the light,  _falon_ ,” Timet offered, ducking beneath low-hanging branches that didn’t bother the girls.

"It was not! I saw it." The young tracker stopped and got her bearings before changing direction and continuing onward. "And I’m going to find it." She was decided, and her friends knew they could not sway her.

"I’m coming with you." Alalia didn’t ask. She never asked, she only determined, and she was at least as stubborn as her friend.

"I…" The boy hesitated, then decided. "I’m coming, too."

Eledhwen turned toward her friends, her pale eyes reflecting the greenery of the forest, and she protested. “You should stay. Go train with  _papae_.” Concern furrowed her brow. “There’s no sense all of us getting in trouble.”

"No." The pair spoke in unison, and Alalia brushed her thick black hair out of her face with one hand, gripping her staff tighter with the other.

The tracker rolled her eyes and continued on her way. “If  **either**  of you falls behind, you are  **both**  returning to camp. This is my only compromise.” The agreement was silent and the trio continued through the forest to the spot where Eledhwen had seen the white hart. She inspected the area, checking the trees and the ground. Finally, she found what she was looking for: a coarse, white tuft of fur stuck to the rough bark of a tree. Nearby was a hoofprint. Slowly, she picked up on more signs and she followed the path, her friends trailing after her.

” _Fenedhis_!” Timet spat the word as he tripped over tree roots. They’d been traveling for some time already. “This is… what..  _lathbora viran_. You’ll never find it!”

"Then go back!" Eledhwen snarled, rounding on the other hunter. "If you think this is so foolish, then go back to camp. I’m going to keep looking."

The redheaded elf watched warily as his friend picked the trail back up. He’d misjudged how strongly she felt about this. For the next half hour, he said nothing.

Finally, the trees stopped and the trio were surprised to find themselves at the edge of a cliff. The tracker scowled and examined the area, found fur caught on a rock at the precipice, and… “There.” She pointed to the forested valley below. “See it? By the trees?”

Alalia and Timet caught a glimpse of the white hart just before it disappeared out of sight.

"By Andruil…" the hunter breathed. "It’s real!"

"Don’t invoke Andruil!" The mage idly slapped Timet’s arm. "She doesn’t want to kill it!"

Eledhwen hadn’t heard anything her friends had said. Instead she’d assessed the best way down the cliff-face and disappeared over the edge. “I’m going after it. Go back to camp.”

“‘Dhwen!” Timet knelt and peered over the edge at her. “Are you sure?”

"Go!" She scowled at him, then concentrated on her climbing again. She was down the cliff like an August Ram, sure-footed and careful, until suddenly, near the base, she lost her grip and swung hard into the cliff-face, a sharp rock digging into her arm. She bit her lip to keep from crying out as it tore a path in her flesh, deep. Struggling to concentrate through the fog of pain, she finally found her footholds and handhold again, and continued down, wincing every time she bent her right arm. Her feet on solid ground again, she rinsed the wound out, but had neither training nor time to do much else. She was more interested in the hart anyway, so into the forest she went, quickly picking its trail back up.

Not far in, she felt the air grow thick and heavy with magic, and her skin tingled. “ _Setheneran…_ " she whispered. Though she’d never felt it before, she knew what it was: a place where the Veil is thin. She trudged onward, her movement slowed by the thick air, until she came upon a clearing filled with colorful wildflowers and found the hart standing there, as though it were waiting for her.

For some time they simply stared at each other, tracker and hart in the colorful meadow, until, finally, Eledhwen walked forward. She did so slowly, confidently, with her hand held out in respect, and she stopped just a few inches away from being able to touch the hart. It seemed to consider her for a moment before pressing its muzzle into her hand.

* * *

"And then I rode the hart into camp." Eledhwen drank heavily from her stein.

"No." Bull stared at her.

” _Papae_  was  **furious.** " 

"And you say white harts are things of legend?" Bull asked. "He should have been proud!"

"He was after he realized what I was riding. He called me  _ventara’sheman_. Windchaser. It stuck.” She snorted in a mixture of laughter and distaste, then drank more.

"Damn. That’s a good one." The Qunari downed the last of his dragon piss before turning back to the Inquisitor so she had full view of his scars again. "Right. My turn."

**Author's Note:**

> lethallan - friend, as close as a blood relation  
> falon - friend  
> lathbora viran - a longing for something that you can never know


End file.
